The Challenge
by sfrost
Summary: After Porthos finds out the truth about Aramis, he develops a new taste for their friendship.


_About the fanart cover: Many thanks to the very talented artist, __夏虫 aka "SummerBug", who was very kind to give me permission to use her beautiful art as the cover of the story. I invite you to check out her work on /en/users/34528959_

_Inspired by joelle-sama and Yael92 :D_

**The Challenge**

It was already past eight and the members of the elite regiment, that was King Louis XIII's Musketeers, had either left for the day to their preferred taverns, or had been dispatched to their _tour-de-garde_ locations for the night.

The manor of Capitaine de Treville was dark, as he himself had left to attend a social event for the evening, save for the large hall that was designated for indoor training. The room was lit by a few chandeliers here and there on the wall. The laborious breathing, groans and sighs echoed obscenely throughout its walls on this rainy autumn evening.

"Ah, ah, ah!" breathed the young blonde musketeer.

"Keep going, Aramis, that's it! Keep going! We're almost there!"

Her companion was almost out of breath himself. They moved up and down repeatedly, mechanically, their breathing becoming heavier with each rise-and-fall. Each of them produced a groan as they felt their muscles starting to burn from holding them up for so long. They had been at this for hours now.

It was Porthos who had started it all. A few months ago, the truth had come out about the nature of Aramis. It wasn't all so shocking as she had feared. They were unhappy at first. Certainly, the realization of being lied to consistently for over six years was upsetting. And then to find out that their youngest and newest companion, D'Artagnan, had found out before them… well, that was even more upsetting. But their friendship was strong and pure and, to her relief, they endured.

Except that for the past couple of months, Porthos had gotten into the habit of proposing these extreme physical challenges to Aramis, knowing full well she would never say no to one. First it was horse racing. Then, it evolved into horse racing with obstacles that kept increasing in difficulty. Then, it was a musket challenge, followed by a pistol challenge. Who could shoot the most objects in little time, or who could meet a specific target? Then, he took it to the taverns, where he would place an apple on his head and ask her to shoot. The last time, it had gotten almost out of control when he asked her to do it with a blindfold.

But she did it anyway. She reveled in the rush elicited by these activities. She felt powerful, capable, strong and masculine. They were a true testament to her skill and even when she failed, at least she was failing against one of the best musketeers in the realm – an honorable defeat which she would rematch at a later time when she enhanced her skills. _He_ made her feel strong.

Ever since the truth came out, something in him had stirred. He began to admire her even more. Every time she took a shot with a musket, or duelled with her sword, he couldn't help but remember the fact that she was a woman, which augmented his admiration for her. Ah, but she was not an ordinary woman, no. She was a warrior Goddess!

But Aramis was stil Aramis. And Aramis was his friend, first and foremost and whatever newfound desires that had stirred within him, he would have to keep them in check. So, he would come up with these absurd ideas just so he could spend more time with her, so he could admire her more… her elegant tall form, her perfectly sculpted body, her beautiful golden mane. Everything about her was so delicious, so beckoning and so… unattainable.

Not long after they started these challenges, she began to feel more conscious of her own body and appearance. They had known each other for so long, but now he knew who she was and she somehow felt inadequate. She had expected something in her friends' regards to change a bit, but nothing did. She was now all the more conscious of the fact that even as a woman, they still saw her as a man, as a brother. Nothing more. She began to notice an unpleasant sensation in her stomach every time they went to a tavern and Porthos picked up a woman or two: jealousy. _She_ was his match, _she_ was the one who knew him inside and out, who would give her_ life_ for him – and Athos and D'Artagnan, of course. But he went to bed with someone else, not her. With a woman, not a "_travestie_", like her. But she persisted in these activities with him, just for the sake of spending time with him, of being close to him.

"What say you to 200 presses?" he had nudged her earlier in the common room.

"Ugh, not this again," whined Athos, who was reading a book in his corner.

"And that is exactly why _you're_ not invited to these challenges."

"I wasn't looking for an invitation. Unlike your lazy behinds, I don't need a challenge to motivate myself to do my trainings. I'm perfectly capable of setting my own schedule," retorted Athos.

Porthos simply made a face at him, prompting Aramis and D'Artagnan to laugh. How he loved to make her laugh! He wondered if she knew just how seductive her laugh was, how alluring her eyes were when they sparkled with joy. All he wanted was to taste her jolly mouth with his lips, to run his tongue along their pink skin, to penetrate her mouth and taste her! How often did he catch himself drooling while thinking of that image!

"Come, D'Artagnan, we have to set off to our patrol. Let's leave these two fools to their own devices," Athos chuckled and headed out the door. The youngest musketeer hurriedly grabbed his hat, saluted his comrades and followed his superior.

…..

"Mmmyyaaah!" groaned the blonde one, "One…hundred….nine…ty…."

Her muscles burned. She could no longer feel her extremities. Her entire body was shaking underneath her own weight.

_Come on, Aramis, you can do this!_ She cheered herself on. _Just ten more. Oh God, ten more… that's ten._ _Ten more of this torture_. She pressed on her elbows once more but her body betrayed her and gave way to the ground underneath her.

She fell to the floor panting, as the musketeer next to her clapped his hands together in triumph.

"HA! You forfeit! I win this round!"

She glared at him. And yet, she couldn't help but admire his physique. He was large, built, muscular. He had taken off his chemise and she could see every single minute muscle on his massive chest. He was covered in sweat and he smelled so good to her. She almost wanted to reach out and take him right then and there, to pull him on top of her. What would it feel like, to have Porthos in that position? Gosh, she couldn't even _remember_ the last time she had _any _man in that position. Or any other, for that matter. She blushed and buried her face into the floor.

"Hey, don't be upset, it's just a game," Porthos spoke gently, placing his large hand on her back to comfort her.

She shivered under his contact and recoiled instinctively. He instantly withdrew, embarrassed.

She turned around on her back and propped herself up on her elbows. She was in her chemise only and he could see the white bandages that concealed her chest. How he longed to remove those insipid bandages! It wasn't his first introduction to them. Since they all knew about her, she had gotten more comfortable around her comrades. She would never remove the bandages but at least she would remove her doublet and unlace her chemise. Besides, what did it matter? She will always be a brother to them.

Without the permission of his brain, his hand traveled and rested on the bandages exposed through her unlaced chemise. They both froze, wide-eyed and in shock. Did he just bring his hands to her _breasts_? Does that mean he saw her as more than a comrade-in-arms? Or was he just curious? Or was she just a conquest? Oh, she didn't care, she could be his conquest, it didn't matter!

_Oh God, oh God, oh God_… the thoughts raced in his head. He was panicking and yet his hand remained where it was. He looked pleadingly into her eyes, as if searching for a gesture to stop him, to remove his hand away, to slap him, to punch him… But she seemed as confused and paralyzed as he was. Had he offended her beyond measure? Or was it possible that she could… that she might…

No, impossible.

He shook his head out of this strange reverie and retrieved his hand. He desperately wanted to get up and run out the room but alas, his excitement would be evident. He simply looked away, blushing and scratching his neck.

The silence was awkward and heavy.

She cleared her throat and with a thick voice, she spoke, "How about a new challenge?"

He exhaled in relief. He looked at her and smiled. Yes, everything was back to normal. Aramis and Porthos, the musketeers, brothers-in-arms. All normal. Yes, a new challenge, that ought to do it.

"What do you have in mind?"

She grinned coyly, "How about a wrestling match?"

He looked at her in disbelief and chuckled, "A wrestling match? With _me?_ No, no. I would crush you in a minute, you don't stand a chance!"

His jaw dropped as she removed her chemise, revealing her bandaged chest and bare arms. Then, before he could say anything, she swiftly moved her body on top of his, her legs on either side of his thick trunk. In his daze, it was easy for her to grab both of his chunky arms and pin them to the ground above his head, as she pressed her chest to his, pushing his entire upper body to the floor.

"Are you so sure about that?" she bit her lower lip.

….

There was no mistaking it now. Her grip was loose and her body quivered with the boldness of the move she had just attempted. He didn't hesitate. He planted his hand on her neck and brought her lips to his, devouring her with such passion as if she was a delicious strawberry on a hot summer day. She let out throaty moans as she felt his excitement underneath her augment.

She sat up, breaking away from their kiss. Their eyes were wild with desire, trying to grasp the idea of this new and strange dynamic. But this was no time for thinking. He pulled himself up such that she was now sitting on his lap and he embraced her with more ardour. His tongue broke from her lips to trace a line from behind her ear all the way down her neck. She had completely melted within these strong arms that encircled her, she hadn't noticed that he had fiddled with the bandage on her chest, until it came undone and she could feel the draft in the room caress her nipples.

She gasped at the idea of being nude with him. With _Porthos_. Her _friend_, her _comrade_. But it excited her beyond measure. He barely glanced at her breasts before he pulled her to him. The contact of their skin, their chests, pressed together made them both sigh with pleasure, with anticipation of more and… deeper contact. Ah, but the feeling of the breasts of this goddess on his chest was intoxicating! He couldn't think of anything else since the first time he had seen this horrific bandage.

He held her at arm's length as he stared at them, so perfectly round, poised, with the nipples pointing towards him. Like two delicate cream puffs topped with a juicy cherry! A quick glance at her face gave him the permission he needed to taste her. His tongue moved in circles around each of her breasts, zeroing in on the nipples which he sucked on so ardently.

"Ahhh," she moaned. God, how good it felt! How neglected her breasts had been for the past few… for ever, really! She held his head jealously in her arms as he continued to devour her. The movements of his tongue making her head spin wildly.

Oh, but Porthos was insatiable. He wanted more. To her surprise, he hoisted her up, placing his hands on her bottom to stabilize her. She looked at him with bewilderment, as she realized what he was about to do. He only smirked in return, as he unbuttoned her pantaloons and slid them down and away.

His hands slowly traveled up her legs, towards her inner thighs, tracing a dangerous path upwards to her sacred place. He inched her closer to him and lifted his head to her crotch.

"Ahhh… oh GOD!" she cried out as she felt his tongue on her sex, so moist and humid.

She gripped his shoulders tightly to stabilize herself.

How delectable she was! He could not stop. His tongue moved lasciviously across her sex, in all places and in all directions. She parted her legs more for him as he brought his head closer and circled her orifice teasingly with his tongue. He continued in this rhythm, feeling her thighs tense around his head. Her cries were barely complete, as each one was stifled with the emergence of another.

She could feel his tongue moving around until it inserted itself inside of her. Yes, inside of her! As far as he could, he tasted the walls that jealously guarded the entrance to her sacredness. Her moans got louder and louder.

"Keep going, keep going," she breathed, moving her body back and forth on his tongue. His whole mouth closed in on her sex, making her cry out louder. She could barely hold herself up, her nails digging into his back and shoulders.

He kept going in this motion until she finally exploded and he was there to recuperate her delicious juices.

She gripped his hair and pulled him from underneath her. She could fee his face covered in her fluid. Her face went red with embarrassment. As she bent down to kiss him, he could see droplets of sweat rolling down her forehead and in between her breasts.

"I'm pretty sure you don't stand a chance," he whispered to her. He then encircled his arms around her waist and without knowing how, he had flipped her onto her back, and pinned her arms above her head – exactly as she had done with him.

With his other arm, he unbuttoned his own pantaloons, releasing his own sex, that was throbbing to unite itself with the woman he had been desiring for so long.

She wrapped her legs around him and raised her head up to press her lips onto his, as he glided inside of her with little effort.

_Oh good GOD! How good it felt!_! He moved inside of her repeatedly, and she moved her body along with his rhythm, taking him in deeper, reveling in his carnal desire for her. It didn't take long for him. He had been so excited by the mere closeness of her, it wasn't difficult. Just a few more minutes and he exploded, making sure to extricate himself on the last thrust to avoid any accidents. He collapsed on his back, panting.

They lay together side by side, catching their breath.

The young blonde propped herself up on one elbow and placed her hand gently on his torso.

"I'm pretty sure I won this round," she jested, smiling playfully at him.

"And how do you figure _that_?" he replied, chuckling.

"Well, I won _you_, didn't I?"

"Oh so, I am just a prize, then?" he said, faking indignation.

"At least you're not a loser," she bantered.

He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her to him, planting a kiss at the top of her head.

"I'll be your prize, any day."

She giggled and kissed him affectionately.


End file.
